


The Order of the Universe

by hedgerowhag



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, everyone and their mother has written a fic like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:58:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6501661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgerowhag/pseuds/hedgerowhag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come with me, you can’t stay here.”</p><p>Ren stands, and follows.</p><p>Besides, it is a universal law that the weak follow the strong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Order of the Universe

**Author's Note:**

> hahahahaHAH[A](http://beeeeebeeee.tumblr.com/)HAHAA

If it hadn’t been for the Supreme Leader’s command to retrieve him to safety, Ren knows General Hux would have been left him the surface of the collapsing Starkiller base.

It’s only fair. Besides, it is the universal law that only the strongest survive and Ren had been weak and it showed; the wound running from his hairline to his shoulders is a brand of weakness. It would only have been natural for him to be left on the shattering planet, to be consumed by its burning heart.

But Ren is carried away by a squadron of ‘troopers and he is awake just long enough to see the scowling face of the pale General.

 

He _should_ be fighting, when they strap him down in the med bay of the _Finalizer_. He should be crying in rage, but Ren is too spent to try anymore.

So he lies in a delirium as the medics pumps sedatives into his blood, robbing him of consciousness. The hours blur as Ren falls in and out of sleep.

For days Ren remains unaware of reality. Unknown to him, the General pleads Snoke to give Ren time to recover – what use will he with wounds and a broken pride.

 

Somewhere amid his waking moments, Ren feels a warm hand press against his exposed cheek, tracing the bandages that cross his face – they can’t waste resources on wounds so feeble as this. Ren chases that warmth and sees the pale hand and follows it to the thin wrist that disappears in the folds of a black sleeve.

The warmth leaves and unconsciousness consumes him again.

 

He is discharged from the medical bay, permitted to return to his quarters to heal on his own. So Ren wallows, shutting down his mind to everything and lying on his on his bed. It is childish, he knows, but he allows himself anyway.

 

On the second day, Ren stands on his shaking legs – he hasn’t eaten voluntarily since being admitted into medical care.

Though his quarters are large – made fit for his rank – they have always been sparse of belongings and the saber lying on a low table stands out uncomfortably. Ren takes it into his hand, the metal heavier than he remembers. He thinks he might drop it if he is not careful but Ren activates it and watches the red plasma pulse like a flaring tongue.

It only takes moments to shatter the furniture and sear the walls with marks of black, the metal spitting sparks. Even after everything is broken, Ren continues to slash the walls, allowing the wires to splutter dangerously with sparks and molten metal run.

He doesn’t realise it when he collapses, tangled in the tattered covers on the floor, the saber still flaring.

 

Perhaps hours passed before the doors open, overridden by the master code. And then… there is a soft touch on Ren’s face, gloved fingers trailing his jaw, slipping down onto his shoulder, shaking him awake.

“Come with me, you can’t stay here.”

Ren stands, and follows.

 

It shouldn’t be this way.

 

The soft touches terrify Ren more than hard fists that break his skin, the gentle pulls and embraces that are so vulnerable and hold nothing but the open truth. And the kisses – they are only given to taste and savour.

So he gives in, allows himself to fall into the coaxing hands.

They welcome him, those pale arms, pulling him into the covers as the red mouth presses kisses to his lips, neck, chest and thighs. Those smiling lips, whispering honesty between moans and— a name: Hux’s true name, not a title or a calling.

It’s an exchange for Ren’s open, naked vulnerability. And that is the name he whispers in between the sheets.

 

Ren’s wounds heal and soothe, he can almost face his shame again. He is not as bold as he once was – no, never that again – but with the General’s hands taking his own, it feels as if the galaxy is a mere sand grain beneath his feet.

He wonders how he would ever live again without those soft whispers in the dark.

 

“Your time is almost up,” Hux says as they trade slow kisses. Ren only hums against his lips.

“I would keep you, if I could. I wish for you to return; I want you by my side, to rule with me,” he presses those sweet words into Ren’s skin, uncaring who heard.

 

So, they part.

 

There is close to no repercussion on Hux’s part for the fall of Starkiller – the disaster had not been on his fault. And besides, it was just one faltering step in the perfection of the system; they will have another chance and this time there will be victory.

For Ren, however, the failure is a searing strike across his spine, a cruel hand wrenching through his lungs. There is no forgiveness for his misjudgement that costed them the fall.

Ren does not expect to return.

 

Seven months pass before Ren embarks on the _Finalizer_. Seven whole months before he walks through those cold halls again. _Seven months_ and he wishes for nothing to have changed when he returns.

 

When the shuttle lands the squadrons line to meet him. The officers, lieutenants and captains stand in their rigid formations, but amongst them all, Ren does not see the General.

 

He sees him on the command bridge, regal and proud just as he has always been – the General the Order deserves. Ren does not approach, only watches and waits to catch his eye. He can’t blame Hux for not being there for his arrival; he has so much on his mind, how would he have time for Ren amongst it all?

The General looks to where the Knight stands, but doesn’t seem to notice him.

 

There is a single moment of peace as the shifts change, and, unmasked, Ren approaches the General who stands and looks out the viewports as the stars pass. They stand side by side in silence until a gloved hand brushes against Hux’s palm

The General flinches as if burned, stepping away with an expression of revulsion.

Before Ren knows it, Hux is gone.

 

It shouldn’t be different, after everything.

 

Hux only acknowledges Ren’s presence when it seems necessary, when orders are given and battles are planned. He clings onto every word that is said and shutters his need to feel those hands in his own until it pains him.

Angry snarls are his reward for breaking the peace. Hands snatched back as if he is diseased.

 

 Pleading for audience gives rise to no better results, only a shut door and blindness to his presence.

 

“Please,” he begs, falling to his knees, when he can’t take it any longer and breaks any idea of resistance. “Please tell me, what I have done to make you hate me,” he clutches onto the sleeves of Hux’s uniform but they are yanked out of reach.

They are alone in the General’s office and every sound is a thunder strike.

Those pale fingers come to clutch his jaw, the touch so vicious Ren winces. It is gone before he can relish in the pain.

“You pathetic child,” Hux sneers. “Do you not see I have no time for you.”

Tentatively, Ren presses one hand against Hux’s knee, “You said that you wanted me by your side,” he whispers. “You said, you wanted me to return.” He allows his forehead to fall against the knee, and when Hux does not pull away he closes his eyes, breathing in the smell he could never forget.

There is a silence that makes him shake, too nervous to look up and see the rage in those cold blue eyes.

“You are still mulling over what I told you?” And then, those soft hands trace his face again, coaxing him to face the General, his eyes remain closed. “Like a moping child, you still expect me to return those feelings?” He feels those fingers draw over his jaw and cheeks, a thumb crosses his lips, drawing them apart.

A strike breaks against his face with a force that makes his head snap. Ren tastes blood where his teeth lacerated his mouth.

He wants to strike Hux, to hold out his hand and mar that pale skin. But he knows he can never do such a thing.

Once, he would have done it. He would have made the man kneel and whimper in pain until he fell into submission. But not after everything those hands and that red mouth blessed him with and taken away.

Even after the strike that stings his skin, Ren remains on his knees before the General.

“You do, don’t you?” there is a startled laugh and it breaks into something bordering the insane. Ren still can’t bear to look.

“Those _feelings_ were lies, a small price to pay for a pliant body beneath me. I never expected you to return and I never wanted you to; I thought I could use you without consequence – you mean nothing to me.” A strong hand wraps around Ren’s neck, barely expressing pressure but it almost chokes him. “You are pathetic, Ren. You are _weak_. And that is why I never want you to touch me again.”

And then, the touch is gone.

When Ren opens his eyes he sees the General walk away. Before he can restrain himself he reaches out and grasps Hux’s hand.

There is pain in Ren’s ribs as he topples to the floor. A foot presses him down, the heel digging into the bone.

“Don’t you _ever_ touch me again, you disgusting thing.”

 

When the footsteps are gone Ren gathers himself to his feet and schools his face into a mask of perfect indifference – aloof and cold. He does not bite his lip until it bleeds or feel the tears as they gather.

 

When the General ascends into power – Ren knows he will, it has been fated – he knows he will follow Hux until the galaxy decides to reclaim that power. He will follow every command, every word, no matter the pain that it may bring him.

After all, it is a universal law that the weak follow the strong. 

 

 


End file.
